Past to Present: Divided
by corneroffandom
Summary: Upon being released, Camacho only wants to talk to one person.


Camacho stares at his backyard and sighs, releasing a soft breath. Deciding it looks as well as he can get it to on such short notice, he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and hesitantly presses the speed dial for Hunico. They haven't competed side by side in a long time, since Mistico had messed up one time too many and WWE had placed Hunico in his mask once he was recovered from an injury that had left them both in Florida, Camacho helping him as much as he'd allow between NXT events. Despite their wrestling careers not being linked anymore, they had remained the best friends they'd been since their teen years, talking often and stopping in to visit each other whenever possible.

"Hola," Hunico greets him eagerly after barely two rings. It's clear the news hasn't reached him yet and Camacho sighs, his gaze distant as he remembers the first time they'd met, Hunico saving him from a group of bullies much larger than he at the time. "Camacho? Vato, are you alright? What's wrong?"

Camacho still hesitates, not wanting to tell him over the phone. "Are you in Florida? Can you come over for awhile? I gotta tell you somethin'."

"Amigo, there's an NXT event tonight, won't we just see each other there and you can tell me then?" he inquires, sounding confused and adding to Camacho's inner turmoil.

"No, I'd rather tell you here. Por favor, Hunico?" His grip on the phone tightens as he worries that Hunico is too busy preparing for the event tonight, or whatever else, and won't be able to come, will have to find out some other way than face to face, from Camacho himself.

But Hunico had never been able to deny Camacho anything since saving him as a young boy, so he agrees within seconds. When he arrives less than half an hour later, it's all Camacho can do to not let it all show on his face as the other man catches him in a one-armed hug before following him to his backyard. "So, what's been going on, vato? And... what's all this?" he demands, looking around Camacho's yard incredulously. Tires are poking out of the grass here and there, buckets full of sand waiting patiently not far from them, and he smiles with a fond smirk. "Was someone feeling a little nostalgic, holmes?"

The taller man chuckles and goes to pick a tire up, the ease that he does so with making both of them reflect on how much he had originally struggled with such things when he and Hunico had first met all of those years ago. "You could say that. Train with me, Hunico? I believe I could give you a run for your money now."

Hunico's laugh is sharp, some of the barrio fire that he'd tampered down during his years in America returning in full. "Si, fine, I ain't done it this way in so long, but I'll give it a go." He sheds his shirt, leaving himself in a much thinner wifebeater before sliding in next to Camacho and collecting his own tire, sneering over at him. "Ready, set..."

"Go!" Camacho calls back before the two of them begin racing around the yard, Camacho's strength and Hunico's speed leaving them just about even for a very long time until they both begin to lag, Camacho dropping back a bit as Hunico rushes past him, finally having no choice but to release his tire a few feet ahead of where Camacho does, the two of them grinning at each other before they lazily move over to the buckets, stretching out their muscles so as not to overdo it so soon after the tire challenge. "Ready for this, amigo?"

"Always," Hunico chuckles. "Are you?"

Camacho's response is to simply lift the sand-filled buckets and wait for Hunico to catch up, the two of them then counting out each time they lift the heavy items over their shoulders, long, hot minutes under the Florida sun passing until Hunico loses a bit of sand, it scattering against his feet, but neither man stops, working on and on as more and more sand tips from the buckets as they lose focus or their grip slacks, until finally Camacho quits, his secret and the heat working against each other to leave him winded and distracted, more sand pouring down on the ground as he haphazardly drops the buckets, turning to stare at Hunico as he worriedly follows suit, laying his buckets down next to Camacho's.

"Amigo, what's wrong? You normally can go much longer than that, is-?"

The look on Camacho's face stops his ramblings, Hunico watching mutedly as he sits down where he stood, not minding as sand clings to his sweat-soaked shorts. When the current Sin Cara settles in across from him, sitting cross-legged, Camacho smiles wearily. "Lo siento, Hunico. I won't be able to have your back in this business any longer."

Hunico shakes his head, confused. "What do you mean, vato? What's going on?"

Camacho steels himself, trailing his large fingers through the piles of sand scattered between them. "I've been released from my WWE contract today. It has probably already hit the internet by now... I just wanted to let you know before you found out on Twitter or, ah, from NXT later today. I'm not sure where I'm going to end up, and I'm so sorry I've failed this opportunity-"

Hunico's eyes flash as he moves insanely quickly, grabbing Camacho by the back of the head and holding onto his neck almost painfully. "You failed nothing, vato! I have been watching you since day one, you took every opportunity, with or without me, and made the best of it! And I have no doubt you will take what you've learned these past few years and make the most of that, as well, no matter where you end up!"

"I'll try," he nods, his lips impossibly dry as he stares at his best friend and tries not to let his emotions overwhelm him, not wanting to appear any weaker in front of the man who'd always been an inspiration through his teen years and well into his twenties, all the way to now.

"Of course, and you'll succeed!" Hunico insists, his touch finally gentling. "And no matter where you end up, or where I am at, we will remain amigos, always and forever. Us barrio boys, we gotta stick together, si, vato?"

"Si," he agrees, chuckling faintly. Even on his worst days, Hunico had been impressive at cheering him up and he had always been loyal to him for that reason, among many others. "Gracias, Hunico." They stand a moment later, staring at each other.

Hunico needs to leave for NXT soon and Camacho has many things to put in order now as he tries to figure out where his life will go from here, but neither wants to leave the other. The shorter man makes the first move anyway, stepping forward and wrapping his arms snugly around Camacho, much more thorough of a hug than earlier. "Stay in touch, yeah? Let me know where you're at, and if we end up anywhere near each other, I'll see what I can do about stopping in to see you do your thing."

Camacho nods, clapping him on the back as he hugs him back, releasing a faint sigh. "Si, and you do the same, Hunico."

"Of course." And whereas, for most people, Camacho would have trouble believing them, he has no doubt that their friendship will be fine, as strong as before, if not more so. "I'll see you soon, vato," Hunico tells him with a smile. "Take care of yourself, eh? Don't wanna have to come knock more heads if someone starts messin' with you."

Camacho does laugh at this, leading Hunico slowly to his front door. "Don't think that'd be _as _possible now, but I'll keep it in mind just in case, amigo. Tear it up at NXT tonight, hm? I won't be there to knock 'em around, so you'll have to do it for me."

"For sure, amigo." They smile at each other as Hunico slips outside, Camacho following him towards the driveway, not quite ready to let him out of his sight.

As Hunico gets into his car, they nod at each other through the windshield and Camacho lifts his hand up in a quiet farewell before turning around to hit the ground running in his new life, post-WWE, taking everything he had learned from Hunico and everyone he had met along the way to the next step in his journey, no clue where it might take him but eager to find out, the conversation with his best friend helping him to get his head on straight.


End file.
